


All the dreamers go to hell.

by IHaveBeenSummoned



Category: Cryp07 (Web Series)
Genre: Coming of Age, Deer, Gay deer, Hello summoned here, How Do I Tag, I will be cursing, I'm writing a sad lil fic, Nonbinary Character, Other, Transgendeer, Who knows where it'll go?, angsty backstory time, certainly not you, it's not that hard just put shit in google, surprise surprise, you'll have to work some things out for yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHaveBeenSummoned/pseuds/IHaveBeenSummoned
Summary: A fan fiction detailing the life, death, and afterlife of my Cryp07 OC, Erin. The chapters of this fic will coincide with Erin's recollections of their life in real time, played out on the Cryp07 discord server.Disclaimer: Some elements of the story, particularly regarding historical context, will not be explicitly dictated due to the nature of second person narrative. I'd recommend you put on your theorist hats for a five minute google search, or ping me if you're super confused.
Kudos: 4





	1. Preface

This is a preface to the work, outlining the basics of Erin, and who they are.

They were originally born on the 19th of June, 1976, in a British-occupied Hong Kong. They were born as a male with the birth name Hsiang, and died in 1995 at the age of 19.

It is my solemn duty to tell you this story, as the vessel of Erin's mind cast forth into the plain that created them.

I hope you enjoy the journey. You may be the only one. 


	2. As we are told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in 1980. Erin is four years old, going by the name Hsiang with he/him pronouns, that I will use accordingly.

It was hot in the new car. Hotter than in Old car, at least. Hsiang sat in the seat behind father, staring out the window. Father was talking to mother, something about new car. He called it an "American Minibus." Hsiang didn't know what those words meant, or why new car had twelve seats instead of five. Mother had shushed him when he asked about it at breakfast, and he didn't ask more because mother was angry, and when mother is angry Hsiang is to do as she says. She did tell him one thing, though.

Today, they were going to the boat-place.

Hsiang had only been to boat-place once, with father and aunty. He knew there were lots of men there who all wore the same clothes, and lots of people who spoke with a Chinese accent in their voice. That day they came home with Liu Yang and Liu Wei sitting in the back seat of Old car with him. They were bigger than him, said that they were ten plus one years old, and born from the same mother at the same time. Hsiang was to regard them as brother and sister, so he did.

New car pulled up to boat place, and Mother opened the big door to help Hsiang out of his seat. The weather was too hot for his favourite red shirt, with it's shiny silver buttons and sleeves that were far too long, so he was wearing a white singlet instead. It felt too scratchy on his back, and too tight around the chest.

"Soon it will be winter again," said Liu Yang, as she was helping him get changed that morning. "Then you can wear your red shirt all the time."

Hsiang gripped his mother's bony hand as they stood waiting at the boat-place. Father had left to talk to another man, while mother talked loudly from a pay phone. She had put on nail polish today, Hsiang noticed, a deep blue colour she only ever wore on special occasions. He wondered what it would be like to wear nail polish like she did, colouring in his boring hands with all the colours of the rainbow. The nail polish was kept in a locked box on top of Mother's closet, after Liu Yang asked to put some on.

_One day I will buy myself my own nail polish._ He thought. _I'd make it red, to match my favourite shirt._

They drove home that day with all the seats in new car full. Hsiang sat at the back, next to a girl who mother said was five years old. She spoke with a Chinese accent, like the people on TV, and all the other girls that came from boat place.

They didn't feel like his sisters.

That night, Hsiang found Liu Yang crying at the bottom of the stairs.

He asked her why she was sad.

She told him, and they wept together.


	3. To bade the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in 1984, when Erin is eight years old. Same deal with name and pronouns as last time. TW for this chapter: Depictions of violence, including implied sexual violence on a minor.

He stood, back against the wall of the girl's dormitory, blood trickling from his nose. The girls eyed Hsiang, making sure he couldn’t run. There were five of them, and one of him. He'd be going nowhere.

The two eldest girls made eye contact, nodding silently in agreement.

Hsiang whimpered as he felt sharp kick to his leg. A girl started to giggle, her laugh echoing around the small room as the rumble of thunder shook the sky outside.

Hsiang fell to the floor, the girls pushing at his body and pulling at his clothes, blood smeared across skin and words being stifled in his open mouth. Flashes of watery colour were punctuated by a blackness that Hsiang did not control. He couldn't tell whether he was crying from pain or sorrow, only that the hot tears were forced from his eyes with every blow he winced through, and time began to melt into one continuous loop of helpless shame.

===

Hsiang trudged down the sidewalk, losing himself in the flow of people. Each step he took sent a fresh jolt of pain up his bruised legs, and the bitter taste of blood in his mouth seemed omnipresent.

_Focus on getting to school_ , he told himself.

Hsiang blinked, trying to wash back the memories of the previous night. He so desperately wanted to hide, away from all the people and the cars and the noise in his head.

_You must not lose control. You must not. Lose. Control._


End file.
